Twice Cursed
by RakeTheSky
Summary: An object from the past is back...and it's ready to wreak havoc. PhoebeCole (I'm back! FINALLY! New chapter up)
1. Prologue

**TWICE CURSED **

_Disclaimer: Charmed, the Charmed Ones, Cole, Leo, and any other character of Charmed belong to the Spelling Corporation and other possible copyright holders. I, as the author, am in no way associated to Charmed. This story, however, and the characters that I have created, are my property and solely belong to me. Please do not use or replicatethis story without my permission beforehand._

**Notes:** This story takes place approximately ten months after the Season Seven episode _Charmageddon_, so therefore, events that follow after said episode are not taken into account. As you read the story, you may find some drastic differences between the characters as we know them in _Charmageddon_, but keep in mind that these changes took place during the ten-month time gap and will be explained later on in the story.

If you enjoyed this story, I invite you to read my other works, including the still-in-progress story Love's Intervention. After reading my stories, I hope you can take a few seconds to give me a review, no matter how old my stories are. All reviews are highly appreciated, and if you would like to contact me, feel free to do so at my email address which can be located in my profile.

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**Twice Cursed  
****Prologue**

Mrs. Phoebe Halliwell stood in the corner of the bathroom while she watched her brother-in-law, Leo, fix the bathtub. She was in her large Snoopy T-shirt and light blue pajama pants, and her hair was slightly mussed, even though she had rolled out of bed two hours ago.

Not the bed that she shared with her husband, that is, in their house nearly halfway across town. Rather, she had gotten up from her old bed in her old room in the Halliwell Manor, where she had stayed for the last two days and nights. Phoebe had gotten into another huge fight with her spouse, and so ran to her sisters', something she was more opt to do more and more often.

"Any progress on the bathtub?" asked Phoebe quietly.

Leo turned around, wiped a tiny bit of sweat from his brow, and nodded. "Just give me a couple more minutes. Something seems to be stuck there, probably from before you took that bath last night."

Phoebe shook her head, her short hair that she was in the process of growing out again whipping slightly around her. "I was in the bathtub when it started to clog, so even if it's not my fault, I'm responsible."

Leo gave his good friend a worried look before turning back to the bathtub drain. "Have you talked to him yet?"

Phoebe looked away from her Whitelighter as if he was reproaching her, even though Leo wasn't even looking at her. "No."

"Phoebe…"

"What?"

"This isn't healthy. You don't need me to tell you that."

Phoebe wrapped her arms tightly around herself and leaned against the wall. "It's just a stupid fight. We'll be fine."

"Phoebe…"

"What?" she snapped, her bleary eyes glaring at Leo's back. Just as suddenly, she slumped back. "I'm sorry," she said in a tiny voice.

At this, Leo turned fully around to face her. "Phoebe, I'm worried. We're _all_ worried. He's not good for you, and I don't care how you deny it, but not only is he wronging you, you're wronging yourself. You shouldn't be doing this, Phoebe."

Phoebe looked away, though not before Leo caught the glittering moisture in her eyes. Suddenly, the cell phone on the bathroom counter started buzzing, and Phoebe snapped it up. She checked the Caller ID, and her whole face lit up. She flipped it open and cradled it to her ear. "Tyler?" she said, a twinge of hope in her voice.

Leo stared at Phoebe, who was completely engrossed in what was being said over the line. He shook his head to himself as Phoebe's features softened and the tears disappeared from her eyes. How could she be so blind as to what was going on? No matter what he or her sisters did, she was completely in denial to the injury that her second husband was inflicting upon her.

Leo was cut off from his thoughts from the sharp snap of Phoebe's phone closing. "That was Tyler," Phoebe announced triumphantly. "He said that he missed me and that he was sorry. I'm going back home," and without even so much as a goodbye, she ran to her room to clean herself up.

Leo shook his head again and turned his attention back to the bathtub. Phoebe—she has been hurt so much and so frequently, and Tyler was sure to hurt her again. And as much as Leo wanted to lift his hands and heal her, these were wounds that no Whitelighter were able to mend.

He flicked on his flashlight and peered inside the drain. There it was. He could see the foreign object, though from this vantage point he still couldn't exactly make it out. Using his pliers as tongs, he slowly reached in and plucked the object out.

And stared as he recognized the ring, not in the least tarnished from its stay in the drain for four years.


	2. A Secret Travel

**A/N** (which I promise is shorter than the last one) I had actually wanted to have you guys figure this out from the context of the story as it progressed, but I decided that it would be better if I told you guys outright: **Tyler is not an abusive husband**. There are three main reasons for this. Firstly, I have to say that I agree with Shel in that I seriously cannot imagine Phoebe in an abusive relationship; the circumstances would simply not fit. Secondly, like Scary Miss Mary said, the abusive husband deal (with or without Jason) has been done before, and I'd like to try something a bit different. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly; failed marriages are not always the result of an abusive husband. There are many, more commonplace and more subtle ways to break up a couple; the abusive husband, though popular in stories, is the extreme.

Also, to a comment from Shel about the tub not clogging up sooner; the ring is magical, remember? ;-)

So, now that we're all clear; Chapter One!

**Twice Cursed   
****Chapter One**

"Hey Paige, have you seen Chris' bib anywhere?" called Piper from the kitchen to the living room.

"No," Paige yelled back. "Do you want me to help you look for it?"

"I was thinking you could call for it instead," Piper shouted.

Paige got up from her seat in front of the TV and walked over to the kitchen. "You know we can't use our magic for our own purposes," she pretended to admonish her oldest sister.

"Don't you use that teacher voice of yours on me, missy," answered Piper, managing to grin even as she whisked around the kitchen, preparing apple sauce for Chris as he banged his small fists on his high chair. "Besides, it would hardly count as personal gain if it takes time away from demon-hunting. If Chris gets completely covered in apple sauce—which will happen—then I'll have to take the time to clean him. And that time will take away precious minutes from blowing up various evil creatures."

"Y'know, having that bib really won't matter," Paige commented amusedly. "Because bibs can't prevent babies from getting food in their hair."

Piper threw up her hands. "It doesn't hurt to try."

The two sisters heard a clatter at the steps and they both peeked out of the kitchen to see their sister bounding down the steps, practically bursting from happiness. "Phoebe?" Piper tried.

Phoebe noticed them and beamed. "Tyler said he was sorry," she said. "I'm gonna go back now." She ran up to her sisters, pulled them into a big hug, and kissed both of them on the cheek. "Thanks a lot you guys." Then, without missing a beat, she ran to the door and hurried outside.

Paige and Piper stood still for a few seconds, then exchanged dark looks before heading back to the kitchen with a lot less exuberance.

Piper reached for the apple sauce and started to feed Chris. He took in one spoonful and promptly spat it out again, nearly soiling his clothes in the process. Paige sighed and held out her hand. A light blue bib with a yellow duck on it appeared amidst bright blue lights, and she handed it without a word to Piper. Piper nodded in thanks and after sternly telling her son that spitting out food was bad, continued to coax Chris into actually swallowing the food.

Paige watched Chris eat, a gloomy expression set on her face. "Tyler Murray," she said, the distaste clear in her mouth. "What a freaking—" she caught herself just in time, glancing nervously at Chris. One look at Piper's face however told her that she agreed with the sentiment.

"Remember when we thought he was half-way decent?"

"Yeah, well, that was before they got engaged," Paige muttered.

"What number was he again?"

"Well, let's see. After Jason, and minus all the one-night stands that we don't know about, there was Leslie, then Louis, Matt, Kyle, Sylvester, Gabriel, Nathan, Thomas—"

"No, Thomas was before Nathan. Remember? He was over for her birthday. Blonde, birthmark on his left arm—?"

"Oh, you're right. After Nathan was...John. Then that brief thing with Omar, then Doug, then—Tyler." Paige shook her head and started to rearrange the spices on the counter to keep her hands busy. Honestly, she and Piper didn't really care _what_ Tyler was like, just as long as Phoebe decided to settle down and take a breather from her dating spree. But they never expected them to get married only after a month of knowing each other.

"We should've tried to stop the wedding from happening," said Piper half-heartedly, even while knowing that they wouldn't have. All they wanted was to have Phoebe happy—and there was no chance now of that ever happening while she keeps being with him. "At least we convinced her to not tell him about us being witches," she said.

"And thank God for that," Paige spat. "Knowing the greaseball businessman that he is, he'd probably sell us out to the highest bidder." Paige sighed and put the pepper shaker she was holding in her hands down. "You know, I almost miss Cole." Paige paused slightly when Piper sent her a clear _be-careful-for-what-you-wish-for_ look. "But I'm serious! At least we knew he loved her. Tyler is just your average, ordinary piece of scum."

"Well, he's dead," Piper said darkly. "It took two tries, but he's dead." She fed Chris another spoonful which he dutifully swallowed, his big eyes following Paige's progress as she paced the kitchen. Suddenly, he gurgled in his throat and pointed toward the living room.

Piper and Paige looked at each other in surprise and a bit of fear, and then turned around to face the newcomer...

"Leo," said Piper with a small exclamation of relief. From behind them, Chris made another gurgle, then sounded.

"Da!"

"Chris!" exclaimed Leo with a huge smile on his face. He lifted his youngest son from his high chair and lifted him slightly. Chris cried in delight, and Leo lowered his son to a more secure position in the crook of his arm. "You're getting bigger day by day," Leo cooed at him. Then he turned to Piper. "Wyatt's playing in the den with that small stuffed horse that Phoebe gave him, he adores it," he informed his wife.

"Yeah, speaking of Phoebe, did you find out what was the whole bathtub thing was about?" Paige asked.

"Yes, I did," Leo said hesitantly. "There was a lot of hair clogging it, but that wasn't the problem that started it. It was this." He held the ring delicately between his two fingers, careful to not slip it on accidentally.

Piper was the first to respond. "Isn't that...Gram's ring? The cursed one that Cole gave Phoebe?" she asked, a bit doubtfully. "What was it doing in the bathtub drain?"

"Never got the chance to ask," Leo answered. "She didn't even see what it was—she got a call from Tyler first." He looked at the ring. "It's not tarnished or faded at all," he commented. "Guess that goes to show the curse is still very much intact."

Paige reached over and plucked the ring from Leo, wanting to see it for herself. She couldn't quite believe... "Well, when we asked her about it right after she got freed of the curse, all she said was that she had gotten rid of it, right? Which I guess means that she threw it down the drain. But...how could've it stayed there for so long and not have it clog up sooner?"

Piper, in turn, took the ring from her as well and peered closely at it. She tilted the ring slightly to the light and saw the same inscription she did years ago, burned into the cursed ring by their grandmother.

_To gain another, to lose oneself._

Piper sighed and placed the ring in the palm of her husband's hand. "Are you going to give it to her?"

Leo closed his hand upon the ring, then opened his hand again. "I should, shouldn't I? I mean, it is technically hers, after all. She has a right, but I really don't feel like inflicting any more pain on her."

Phoebe's two sisters agreed, nodding sadly and silently. Yet Paige looked up, a spark of an idea in her eye. "But you know," she said reasonably, "maybe the ring will help her realize what a bad relationship she's in."

"Or," rebutted Piper, just as reasonably, "She'll just sink into a deeper depression with the realization that her love life is always screwed up."

The three of them were quiet for a beat, before Leo spoke up. "Both of you are right, of course," Leo said heavily. "If I find the right moment to give it to her, I will. If I don't..." he shrugged. "I don't want to be the cause of any more unneeded sorrow."

They all acquiesced and broke off to attend to their various jobs around the house, Leo taking great care to put the ring firmly in his jeans pocket. Even as he orbed to another one of his charges, however, the ring glowed slightly and moved itself—right onto the bedspread of the middle Halliwell sister.


	3. Cry

**A/N: **Another chapter; thanks for the reviews. I actually didn't intend for Tyler's name to coincide with the boy's name from "Lost and Bound", so yeah I guess its just a coincidence. Also, the way I see Phoebe and Tyler's relationship—Phoebe relies heavily on her family and after so many years of leaning on them for support, it would make sense for her to turn to the only ones she can. Also...damnit, can't say anything else, I hope the next chapter sheds some more light.

**Twice Cursed   
****Chapter Two**

In the quiet, suburban neighborhood in which the Halliwell Manor was tucked into, the birds twittered softly in the night air as a young couple strolled hand-in-hand along Prescott Street, talking softly to each other. A night jogger ran at her own pace on the other side of the street, jogging to the beat of the music coming from her headphones.

Suddenly, a car's squealing tires as it skidded around the corner onto Prescott cause a group of sparrows to take flight; the jogger paused, and the couple looked behind them to see what was going on. The silver Chrysler screeched into the Halliwell driveway and Phoebe stumbled out, black mascara stains on her cheeks visible to all the people on the street, even in the dim light of streetlamps. She ran up the steps to the house where her sisters lived as the car door slammed behind her. After the Manor door closed, the street remained silent for a second, then slowly began its activities once more.

Phoebe spun around in the empty Manor. "Piper? Paige? Leo?" she called, her voice becoming smaller with each name she uttered. She glanced at the calendar on the wall. _The Killers_, wrote Piper's firm, even writing underneath the space for November 20rd.

The middle sister nodded to herself. She remembered Piper mentioning something about them a few weeks ago—Piper was especially excited about this music group performing at P3, since they were fresh talent on the scene and immensely popular. Phoebe would have joined them, but—she had gotten into a fight, _again_, with Tyler.

Just the thought of him had her eyes threatening to leave fresh trails of makeup on her face. It was barely two days from when she ran back to the Manor last and she was already back, crying. Why does she even bother to put on makeup, if it's just going to get ruined? Hell, why does she even go _back_, knowing that he'll just make her cry again?

Phoebe sank to her feet and sobbed, barely making it to the edge of the sofa. She was, in all actuality, thankful that her sisters and brother-in-law were out; the serenity and emptiness of the house gave her as much freedom as she liked to bawl and truly express herself without being found out. She clung to the armrest with her knees digging into the carpet, grabbing a tissue from her purse so as to not soil the light-colored couch.

"Oh God," she muttered to herself, sitting back on her heels with a thump. "How pathetic am I?"

The answer—very—caused her to fall onto her back, as she laid sprawled on the oriental rug. _Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic_, she rebuked herself, each word feeling like a giant knife pressed against her body. Why could she never, _ever_, get anything right?

When she had met Tyler, they had hit it off immediately, flirting and teasing each other. Their relationship was rather hot and heavy, sexual passion rampant throughout—so when he had proposed to her, she had gone with the moment and said yes.

And it was such a perfect proposal too, Phoebe thought as tears rimmed her eyes. Candlelight dinner, expensive champagne, Tyler down on one knee—and the wedding! It was held in a church with friends from both sides of the family. It was a normal wedding with a seven story cake and they had a nice, undisturbed honeymoon in Hawaii.

Without delay, however, their relationship had started falling apart almost as soon as the honeymoon was over. They really didn't know each other at all—he didn't even know about the most important aspect of her life, magic. And Phoebe was glad he didn't; would it be Jason all over again?

_No, most likely he wouldn't give a damn_, Phoebe thought bitterly. Tyler was so apathetic, he didn't care what she did, and when she tried to find out what _he_ did during the time when she was away, he went all defensive on _her._ This was the basis for many of their fights; and far from them resolving it, the arguments had run deeper and deeper each time.

God—they simply just didn't _click_, Phoebe would've had a better husband in Leslie simply because they fit together better. Phoebe knew, in the depths of her heart, that Tyler was supposed to be just another guy in her string of boyfriends—but she was tired, so tired, and Tyler seemed so perfect at the time. Now, Phoebe knew, it was just her amped up sexual drive. Even that department was starting to lack; he had a good stamina, but was probably the least creative guy on the planet. And really; how could she thoroughly enjoy sex with her _husband _when one major thing was lacking?

Phoebe had gained more strength, both physically and emotionally, and had drawn on this newly acquired energy to get up and trudge to her bedroom. Now what in the name of God was she going to do? It was all just a mistake, she was always making mistakes, God, her whole fucking life was a mistake!

She was inside her bedroom; and with a burst of frustration, she ripped her wedding ring from her hand and threw it furiously on the ground. It hit her bed, then bounced onto the floor.

Phoebe sighed and put her face in her hands before starting to look for it. She shouldn't have done that; it was juvenile and just plain stupid of her. After a general search of the floor, in which she didn't find the sparkling diamond, Phoebe decided to search the bed—maybe it never left it.

And so she ran her hand across her darkly multi-colored bedspread, as her hand hit upon a ring. _There we go_. She gripped it in her hand and was about to put it on when she stopped. Something was wrong...she looked at the ring in her hand and immediately knew what it was.

She sat, her legs tucked underneath her, staring at the ring, then closed her fist tightly around it and brought her hand to her heart, tears streaming like a waterfall. _Cole_...as if she needed another reminder of how her marriages famously crash and burn.

But marriage to Cole wasn't supposed to crash and burn. It was supposed to thrive, they were supposed to have a family—oh, how she had loved him, loved him to absolutely no end. Phoebe fell fully onto the bed as her whole body shook with racking sobs, cries that were no comparison to the tears that she had cried over Tyler.

_Oh, Cole_, Phoebe thought as she cradled herself in fetal position. _After all this time, you're still the one who makes me cry the most._ Her hand was actually shaking now, from the strength in which Phoebe clutched the ring, fingernails digging into her palm.

She opened her palm slowly, her whole face a mask of tears, to look at the ring. In the back of her mind, she wondered what the ring was doing on her bed. She had tossed the ring down the drain of the bathtub...and with that, a whole new flood of memories of Cole came to her as she began crying again.

"_And as to Gram's notion of marriage...we can watch that go down the drain," _Phoebe had announced so long ago before she dumped the ring.

"Well, Grams, guess what, you're ring obviously didn't teach me the lesson the first time around," Phoebe said aloud to herself. "To gain another, to lose oneself?" She stifled a sob before composing herself to talk. "Lose the one I gained, lose myself—I don't care anymore," she cried out, her world a torrent of tears. "Just end this pain, anyone, just—" her voice became chocked and she couldn't speak anymore. As she drowned in a whirlpool of sorrow, she took the ring and jammed it on her fourth finger.

In the attic, the Book of Shadows suddenly came to life. The pages flipped as a voice could be heard; a familiar voice.

To be cursed once let the lesson be learned   
Yet to be cursed twice calls   
For different measures;   
May the one that is needed   
Come;   
And lead the path that was astray.

On Phoebe's hand, even as she was crying herself to sleep, the ring glowed brilliantly for a second and then seemed to fade directly into her finger...

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**A/N(2)**: Yeah, I know I made her cry a lot. Hope it didn't get too...much. Also, for those who follow **Love's Intervention**...it might take some time before I post another chapter, I have a severe case of writer's block. But then again, it might not; inspiration can strike at any time usually, in the dead of the night, unfortunately for me. Please review, it means a lot! 


	4. Just a Little Bit Better

**Twice Cursed  
****Just a Little Bit Better**

At three in the morning, Piper, Leo and Paige came home, laughing and in high spirits, though they were all more than a bit tired.

"Oh, Lord, I haven't been out so late at a club or a party since—" Paige thought back. "Since I first became a Charmed One."

Piper laughed and threw herself on the couch. "Now _that_ is something we've got to fix. I mean, I'm the club owner, remember?" Nevertheless, she sobered up a bit. "Still, we have to be wary. We can't let ourselves get slack just because there haven't been any major demon attacks for the past two weeks."

The three sat down and chatted, as they calmed themselves down. After fifteen minutes, they were all ready to turn themselves in. It was at that moment that Piper, ever the perfect housekeeper, noticed the stray, blackened tissue on the floor.

She picked it up. The black marks looked like mascara streaks…with a sense of foreboding, she looked at Paige. "This isn't yours, isn't it," she asked flatly.

Paige shook her head. "Phoebe again? Do you want me to check up on her?"

Piper sighed. "No, its fine, you can go to sleep. I'll take care of this myself." She looked at Leo. "Same goes for you too."

Paige was about to argue when she saw the look on Piper's face. There was something that her oldest sister had to sort out, she knew. So, with an affirming glance to her brother-in-law, the two orbed to their respective rooms at the same time.

Piper herself slowly went up the stairs, her head down low. How could she have enjoyed herself tonight while Phoebe was so obviously in pain? And to think—she didn't even call her up and ask her to come!

She reached Phoebe's door and silently pushed it open. The light was still on as she had obviously cried herself to sleep, the makeup now dried on her face. Still—Piper stepped a bit closer, looking at her younger sister's expression. Her features were softened, a good deal of the ever-present tension that she had carried around lately faded away. She seemed—almost at peace. Somehow, Piper seeing her sister like this helped her alleviate some of her own guilt, and caused her to have some real hope for Phoebe as well. Something definitely changed, Piper thought. Whatever it was, it was definitely for the better. Piper smiled tenderly at her sister's sleeping form, and headed to her own bedroom, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

As Piper snuggled into bed with her husband, something in the attic stirred. The movement was so slight it could have been mistaken for a breeze from the window, except that the window was closed.

A tiny beam of light started to form somewhere in the space of the attic, and soon it had expanded to fill the entire space. The light flashed blindingly white for a split second, then vanquished completely.

Standing in the middle of the attic was a man in disheveled rags, his blue eyes dull from excessive pain. He turned his head slightly to his side, as if trying to figure out where he was. As a look of recognition passed over his face, his wobbly knees gave way, and he collapsed, unconscious, onto the floor.

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**A/N**: I know that was short, but as compensation…an update of **Love's Intervention **is up, posted the same time as this one! Please be kind and review both. Thanks and enjoy all! 


	5. Breakfast at the Halliwells'

**Twice Cursed  
****Breakfast at the Halliwells'**

Phoebe woke up at seven, her mind feeling fresh. She made her bed, took a nice, long shower, put on clean clothes from her regular wardrobe (she had learned to keep some of her clothes at the Manor), and applied a bit of makeup. For the first time in a month, she did not have to put on under-eye concealer.

She walked quietly down the steps and into the kitchen, the house still quiet with sleep. Phoebe donned on an apron and made an omelet—the only food that she could cook well. Then she switched on the coffeemaker, made a whole pot of the strong stuff, and poured herself a cup.

Paige, following the smell of breakfast, wandered sleepily into the kitchen, then started when she saw Phoebe sitting calmly at the counter, proofreading some of her work while sipping some of her coffee. "Phoebe, hey," Paige greeted her.

Phoebe looked up, a bit startled. "Oh, hey Paige," she said, giving her youngest sister a half smile. "There goes my plans to slip away unnoticed. I came over last night, but I think I fell asleep before you guys came home. I hope that's ok." She stood up. "Do you want me to make you an omelet?" she asked, seeing the way Paige slightly drooled at her breakfast plate.

Paige slightly hesitated. "Are you sure? I can always—"

"No, please Paige, I insist. I have definitely been way too much of a burden for you guys lately, and while an omelet can't make up for it, it won't hurt," Phoebe said firmly.

"You haven't been a burden," Paige protested. "Far from it. We love having you back here, but—" Paige sighed and tried to find a way to say what she wanted to without having her sister fall back into her fragile state, especially since she seemed so composed now. "But we hate seeing you so miserable." Paige bit her lip. "But you seem a lot better now," she offered. "What…changed?"

Phoebe paused as she drew a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator. "You know what's funny? I'm actually not sure," Phoebe said honestly. "I came here—in a bit of a mess," Phoebe admitted while tying the apron back on. "And then I went up and slept."

"Well, then it must have been one hell of a nap you took there," Paige said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

"Mm, I agree." Paige sat down opposite Phoebe's seat and they lightly chatted with Phoebe at the stove, something that they hadn't done in ages. Phoebe informed her sister quite merrily about Elise finally relaxing Phoebe's strict schedule; Paige shared her stories of rowdy magical teenage students, words that should never be put in the same sentence, she complained. They talked about the recent lull in demon activity and together made up a few theories of why that could be.

When Phoebe turned away from stove, she had not one but three plates of omelets. "This one is for you, and these two are for Piper and Leo. But as for me, I have to run. This article—" she grabbed the piece of paper she was proofreading "Is due this morning, and I have to add the changes I made. So…" she leaned over and gave Paige a peck on the cheek. "Tell everybody that I love them.

Paige watched as her sister walked out of the manor, her eyebrows peaked on top of her forehead. Whatever her sister said, there was most probably some sort of magic going on. Even if there wasn't, they were better safe than sorry. She ate her omelet, covered the other two plates with lids so they wouldn't get cold, and headed up toward the attic.

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**A/N:** I know this was short yet again but no worries; the next one is definitely going to be longer. One author's request, though; I haven't been getting many reviews lately, and though I don't want to harp on you guys to, please take into consideration that reviews count a lot. This applies particularly to my other story, **Love's Intervention**, especially since you guys seem to follow that story more closely. Just in case you guys didn't know, a newish chapter is up for LI (14). 

So yeah. For those who have reviewed, its greatly appreciated, just make sure you continue on. Thanks so much!!


	6. One Hell of a Nap

**Twice Cursed  
****One Hell of a Nap**

The man in the attic lay crumpled on the floorboards of the attic, as the light of the morning streamed through the stained glass windows and onto his face. His right hand twitched slightly, and he half opened his eyes before quickly closing them again. He had never felt so weak before, with not enough energy to lift a finger. He hadn't felt like this since…

_Phoebe._

The name echoed in his mind.

_Phoebe._

Oh, God…

_Phoebe._

Cole Turner opened his eyes fully and resisted the urge to close them. He stared around at his surroundings the best that he could without moving his head. But even by staring at the beams of the ceiling told him where he was. In the attic of the Manor.

The Manor. Which meant that somewhere here, Phoebe was too. Maybe she was lying in her bed, maybe she was taking a shower, maybe she was eating breakfast with her sisters at the kitchen counter…

But…why was _he_ here? He wasn't supposed to be, that was for sure. He was dead, he knew that very well himself. The Charmed Ones made sure of that. Phoebe made sure of that—it was his last memory, the cold look in Phoebe's eyes when she threw that potion…

Oh, God.

Cole tried sitting up, and with some effort found that he could do so. He looked down at the tattered rags that once were his clothes. One thing was for sure—hell had not been kind to him for the time that he had been there.

Yes, hell. Like he once said to a pair of grimlocks so very long ago, back to when he was courting Phoebe: "There's dead, and then there's _dead._" The second vanquishing really had been efficient—no bothering with the wasteland this time, no, he had went straight into the pits of fire and stayed there. And it had not been fun.

Then again, hell was not exactly cruel to him—not excessively so, anyways. He could only guess that some of the terrible things that he had done were alleviated by the good deeds he had done during those happy times with Phoebe. Too bad it wasn't nearly enough to wipe out all of Belthazor's legacy, especially with "becoming the Source of All Evil" added to his rap sheet.

In a weird, twisted way, however, hell had given him a benefit that he wouldn't have gotten any other way—any other possible way, that is. Hell made him sane again, as strange and paradoxical as it sounds. Perhaps it was because he couldn't get any crazier, thought Cole with just a hint of bitterness, meaning there was no choice for the pits of hell but to revert his insanity. The fire was almost cleansing, too, in a way. He felt his newly gained powers being slowly stripped away as he burned in the pits of hell, leaving his basic powers of shimmering and energy balls behind.

That was not to say that hell had been a good experience. Hell was the reason for all his bruises and for his complete lack of energy. It had also been responsible for all his broken, dead bones as well, which were healed with his acidic blood. It had been the last of his powers to go, and he had been sucked out of hell before hell had the time to break any more bones.

Who had brought him out, anyways? Cole was corporeal, not a ghostly image of himself, which meant that he had to be alive. His first thought before he passed out was that the Charmed Ones must have brought him back to life to torture him some more. But that didn't seem to be the case anymore, since none of the sisters were there. He shifted his position and let out a low groan. The pain…such unimaginable pain…though maybe not so unimaginable after all. Being without Phoebe or being in hell—they were basically the same thing anyways. Still, he relished in the feeling of breathing in strong, clean air, and feeling the sturdiness of the cool floorboards beneath him.

He looked around the attic. There, sitting perched on its stand, was the Book of Shadows, with its cover firmly shut, a yard or two away from him. It seemed thicker than the last time he saw it, but of course that was to be expected. There was also a lot more _stuff_ in the attic—a few good stacks of stuff, really. There was a broken stroller sitting dejectedly in a corner, with one of its wheels seemingly blown off. Melinda, Cole guessed. He would not allow himself to think of the stroller belonging to Phoebe, though he knew that there may be a chance of that happening. What year was it, anyways?

Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming up toward the attic. He sat still for a whole second, then mustered up all his energy to drag himself behind one of the gigantic piles of _stuff_ in the attic. A few moments later, Paige emerged, still in her PJs, heading directly toward the Book. She took it in her arms and almost seemed to cradle it. "Hello, there, Book," she said to it, shifting its weight to her hip. "Long time no see, huh?" She sat down in one of the chairs in the attic, her back partially to Cole. "You're practically getting dusty." She wiped off the cover before opening the Book. "It's been a while, and I'm definitely not complaining, but—" she sighed, and Cole from a small gap of space he was provided saw her run her hand through her hair. "I have a feeling something may be up again. With Phoebe."

Cole tensed. What was wrong with Phoebe?

"Everything's wrong with Phoebe," Paige continued, as if she had heard Cole's question. "Well, not with _her_, though she does need to get her head checked for being so goddamned blind to that miserable…" she ended her sentence with a few grumbles. "Anyways," she sighed again to the Book, "As much as I hate to say it, but when Phoebe starts acting calm and almost happy, then something has to be wrong." She flipped randomly through the big tome. "God," she said suddenly, propping her elbows on the Book and putting her head in her hands, "I'm such a bad sister." She looked up. "Anyone wanna help?"

Paige received no reply, so she shrugged and flipped a bit more before closing the book decisively and putting it back on the stand. "Guess not," she said softly to herself. She headed toward the doorway and Cole was about to crawl out from his hiding spot went Paige suddenly froze. Her suspicious gaze swept around the attic, her eyes lingering on Cole's hiding spot before she relented and went back down the steps.

It was until Cole couldn't hear Paige's footsteps anymore that he allowed himself to breathe.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews. A few notes…

It actually does seem like I lost a few comments to the site, three, actually, from **Shel**, **cutleryismyfriend**, and **svata2004**. I've read the comments though, because I have them sent directly to my email box, so it's all OK.

Also, to **Charmed-Snow** (this goes back to the comment you left for the chapter "Cry")—I'm sorry I made you cry! Hopefully, it didn't damper your day. I was pretty surprised, though, I didn't expect to elicit such powerful emotion.

To _all_—see,this onewas longer, hehe. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	7. To Feel

**Twice Cursed  
To Feel**

Cole slowly edged out of his hiding place and laid himself on the ground, his imagination running with all the things that could be wrong with Phoebe. His love, his life…who had vanquished him. Twice. And left him to the Wasteland to spend for eternity. The woman who had repeatedly pushed him out of her life, even as he fell into the abyss of his own insanity.

That decided it. She had moved on a long time ago even _before_ he was dead, and it was now time for him to do so as well. As much as it pained him, Phoebe could work out her own problems by herself—he wasn't needed. His newly brought back rationale had made his head clear. He didn't know why he was resurrected, he didn't know why he was here, but it was his chance to start anew. He wanted answers, sure, but he doubted the Charmed Ones could help him, even if they wanted to. And they would as soon as blow him up over and over again before they would even consider the possibility of helping him.

Cole glanced around the attic, already forming in his mind a plan. He would shimmer away from this home, as far as he could manage with the limited strength he had, and then go about his way to find answers for his sudden rebirth. Then after…he didn't know. All he knew was that it was time for him to leave. He closed his eyes, drew upon his small reserves of strength, and simmered.

Right into Phoebe's bedroom.

Cole opened his eyes and looked around before chuckling sadly to himself. Who was he kidding? Even without thinking, this was the first place he went to. Phoebe may have been able to move on, but he—he could never do it. He could go halfway around the world, and it wouldn't make a difference. He couldn't do it in death; he certainly couldn't do it in life.

He turned on Phoebe's bed, which was where he had shimmered himself to, and deeply inhaled the lingering scent on her pillow. He didn't know what was more intoxicating; the soft mattress underneath him, soothing his tired body, or the smell of Phoebe, which rejuvenated his soul. This bed—they had shared it such a long time ago, back when things were just as perfect as they could be. He could think up a ton of priceless memories of the very spot he was lying in.

How long ago was it, anyways? He shifted his head toward her nightstand and stared at her multifunctional digital clock. Monday, November 21st, 2005. He sighed and buried his face back in her pillow. He had been dead for a good solid block of time.

He laid there for a long time, really not caring anymore if someone found him out. The door of her room was closed, which gave him some protection, but all he could think about was every single moment that he shared with Phoebe while being surrounded with her essence.

After a while, he slowly got up, meaning to explore a bit without intruding entirely on her privacy. He went to her closet, running a hand lightly through all her clothes, noting the new ones and noting the old ones, and picturing in his mind what each of them would look like on her. He glanced briefly at the cardboard box sitting in the back of the closet, partially hidden by a mound of shoes, before turning away and walking toward another part of her room. He touched the things on her dresser. Her Chanel No.°5, her hairbrush. Then he looked up at his reflection. He looked the same as he did on his birthday.

_I am really alive?_ Cole wondered. Even though he _felt_ solid, there was always a chance that he was wandering around as a ghost and that nobody could see him. Then again, there was no way he was going to try this out in the Halliwell household. Maybe he could go somewhere else and try; but he still lacked the energy to go shimmer anywhere that was out of range of the Manor, and his clothes were pretty much burned to a crisp. He scratched his chin. God, and he needed a shave too—looking at his reflection, he could understand why he seemed so frightening during the months before his demise. His disheveled appearance, paired with the psychotic look in his eyes; he didn't only look dangerous, he _was_ dangerous. And the pain that he had caused the Halliwell family…he winced.

_But she hurt me too_, a little voice sounded sadly in his head. Cole lowered his head and let his gaze fall on the framed pictures on Phoebe's dresser. Each picture of her—her and Paige, her and Piper, an old picture with her and Prue, a family picture with the girls and two young boys sitting on Piper and Leo's laps—all caused a separate pang of pain and longing deep within his chest.

But there was this one particular photo that made him stop and pick it up. It looked like a cameo picture that one of her sisters' must have shot—probably Paige, Cole thought. Even though Prue was the family photographer, Paige was next in line with her arts. The image was a close-up taken from behind; the photographer obviously must have called her name, because whoever took the picture caught Phoebe mid-turn, her short hair whisking around her, a smile on her face.

Cole closed his eyes and clutched the frame to him, as if the combination of glass and metal could transform into the body of his former wife. When was the last time he had seen her like this, her features relaxed, so genuinely _her_? He gently rocked on his heels, a mantra playing over and over in his head. _I love you…I love you…I need you…_

Suddenly, Cole heard noises outside her bedroom, muffled by her door. His eyes flew open and he took a step forward, wanting to shimmer away though knowing he couldn't. He kept still, his ear cocked to hear if anyone was going to venture outside. He could make out Piper's voice, along with a loud boy's. "But mommy," Cole could hear him say, "It's too early!"

Cole allowed himself a little smile after he heard Piper and her son go down the stairs. The boy must have picked up that phrase from both her mother _and_ his aunts. He stooped down and picked up a small object from the ground, which he had stepped on.

He slowly straightened, staring at the object he held between his thumb and index finger. Shakily, he set the picture frame down. He was holding a wedding ring.

He didn't wonder what it was doing on the floor, he didn't wonder why there was no picture of a man on her drawer, he couldn't think at all as a single tear made its way down his face.

* * *

**A/N:** As always, a big thank you to all my reviewers. Don't worry, Shel, they'll see each other. Eventually. (I know, I'm terrible) 


	8. Aorta

**A/N:** And another installation is born! Hope you like this one, though I want to leave you with this message before you begin: there are shades of gray to every story, including this one. Enjoy!

**Twice Cursed  
****Aorta**

Phoebe was typing up a response to a letter she had received when her cell phone rang. Without checking the Caller ID, she picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Phoebe, honey? Hey. Look, I'm really sorry about what happened last night, OK? You know, from the pressure from work and—"

"Tyler?"

He paused. "Yeah, babe?"

Phoebe drew in a breath. "We need to talk."

There was silence on the other line. All Phoebe could hear were the fax and copy machines humming from outside her open office door.

"Yes," Tyler finally said. "Yes. We need to talk."

Phoebe nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her, and hung up.

Phoebe stared blankly at the computer screen before her. Her head turned slightly and she stared blankly at the opened letter on her desk. Her gaze then went to the window, and she spent another minute staring blankly out at the cars before she suddenly snapped out of it and checked her watch.

"That's it," she muttered as she straightened her papers and stood up. "I've had enough of this." Phoebe shoved the papers into her bag and gathered her coat and scarf. She didn't care that she was leaving an hour before she was supposed to; she had written enough advice to last her for two months so Elise couldn't dare to say anything. Well, knowing Elise, she'd dare to do so and more, but Phoebe didn't care. She had spent way too much time in the office in the past few weeks.

And before she knew it, she was already in front of the door of the house that she and Tyler shared. It felt almost instantaneous; like she had orbed there or something. A glance toward the driveway confirmed that she indeed had driven there, but the drive was a complete blur. Phoebe inserted the key into the lock and let herself in.

From the foyer, she could hear her husband speaking loudly to someone over the telephone in the living room. "This is bad news," he was saying. "Our projected sales for this quarter are not looking good at all. Call him up, we _need_ to have—" he stopped talking as he saw Phoebe step silently into the room. "Hey," he said slowly to the person over the line. "I'll call you back, OK?" He closed the lid of his cell phone.

Neither of them spoke for a while. They both knew how serious the situation was. After those tense minutes, Phoebe couldn't stand it anymore. "Tyler," she said.

"Phoebe," he said, at the same time.

They looked at each other. "Tyler," Phoebe began again, softly. "I don't know how I should start."

"I really am sorry, you know, about last night," Tyler replied just as softly.

"I know," she said. "But we can't go on like this. You know that."

"I do," he responded in a voice that made Phoebe start. He had sounded exactly the same as he did that Saturday in July, when he had told the priest the sealing words to their marriage. Now, he sounded just as solemn, just as serious. She remembered how she thought that was so endearing, how Tyler at his most serious reminded her of a little boy telling his parents something important. Maybe this could work out, Phoebe thought. Maybe not all was lost…

Tyler's voice, suddenly sharp, cut through her musings. "Where's your ring?" he asked, his tone terse and unfriendly.

Phoebe glanced down and stared at her bare finger. She frowned as she reached over with her right hand to rub the spot where her ring should have been. Yes, she threw the ring down on the floor in a fit of anger, but she had _definitely_ slipped a ring back on shortly before falling asleep.

"Phoebe, where is your ring?" Tyler asked again, his voice a hard mixture of anger and nastiness.

"Look, Tyler," she said, recoiling slightly from his accusatory tone. "I don't know, OK? I left it off at the Manor, and I thought I put it back on but I guess I didn't. I'm pretty sure it's on my nightstand now."

"Really?" said Tyler sarcastically. "At the Manor?"

"Yes," Phoebe said slowly, "at the Manor." She felt her temper flare up as he gave her a disbelieving look. "What exactly are you implying?"

"Honey, I don't have to imply anything," Tyler sneered. "The situation kind of explains itself, doesn't it?"

"You bastard," Phoebe said in a low voice, her voice rising with every word she uttered. "I am faithful wife. How does it suddenly become my fault that I have no where to go but my sisters' house because _you_ made me cry?"

"It's always me, huh?" Tyler said. He jabbed his thumb toward his chest. "_I _said something to hurt your feelings._ I_ made you cry—"

"You did!" Phoebe shouted.

"Grow a fucking spine!" He yelled back. Phoebe reeled as if had physically struck her.

"I'm sorry that that's harsh, Phoebe, but its true," Tyler continued in a slightly calmer tone. "I don't know what happened to you, Phoebe, but you are not acting like the woman that I proposed to. The one at the altar with me, remember? What we're going through—" he waved his hands "—is normal, married couple shit, OK? And maybe I did a few things that crossed that line, and I am sorry, I really am. I would love to make it up to you, but you _never give us a chance._"

"What the hell are you talking about, Tyler?" Phoebe snapped. "After all those times, I _always_ came back to you."

"But for how long?" Tyler retorted. "Oh, a few hours, for some sex—not that I'm complaining—but as soon as I say some _little_ thing, it escalates and _always_ ends up with you running out of here. Hey, here's an idea—how about you stay a while so we can _talk it out?_ Work out our _issues_, huh? Where the _fuck_ is your faith in our relationship?"

"You have some cheek questioning _my_ faith in our marriage," Phoebe spat. "You're the one who couldn't take it when your wife wanted just a bit of attention in front of you and your stocks and your sales and whatever you do. And you accuse _me_ of cheating when I don't even know where you are ninety percent of the time? When did you suddenly care, huh? When did you show any interest in where this is going? Even though _Leo_ has tons of work—"

"_No_," Tyler said firmly, enough for Phoebe to stop talking. "No. I am _tired_ of hearing about perfect Leo and Piper, and their perfect relationship, and how their marriage never goes wrong. It's always Leo doing something better than me, Leo doing something to make your sister happy. Well, I can't be the only reason why we're having all these problems, can it? I don't know what you're always running for, running _from._ From me? Well, then, maybe you married the wrong friggin guy, because I'm obviously not your perfect fairytale Prince Charming!"

Phoebe was silent, unable to look at her husband.

"So," Tyler continued, taking advantage of Phoebe's lack of response, "If you want us to work out our problems now, I'm listening. If you feel like there's _anything worth saving_…" he left the comment up in the air.

Phoebe lifted her head, looking straight into Tyler's eyes. Then she turned around and walked out of the house.

She walked calmly to her car, turned the ignition, and pulled out of the driveway. Her foot was steady on the pedals, her hands firmly grasping her steering wheel. Her attention was so focused on the road ahead of her that she didn't notice as her hands jerked more sharply while turning the corner, how her brakes became increasingly sharper and her accelerations more sudden. By the time she got out of her seat, she was tripping, stumbling as she made her way across the cemetery and into the mausoleum.

Her footsteps clattered noisily as she blindly made her way down the stairs. As she got to the landing, she made a few steps before her foot got caught in a hole on the ground caused by a certain vanquishing potion, causing her to nearly fall. She steadied herself just in time, placing her hands on her knees as she half-crouched, deeply inhaling as if she had exerted herself to the point of breaking.

She felt it more than she heard it; that slight ripple in the air that she still knew naturally, intimately. Somewhere in her mind, like the slightest echo in the largest cave, she heard the slightly disembodied voice of her seventh grade gym teacher, telling her that it wasn't good to suddenly stop after running a mile, that the heart would be pounding too much blood, that she needed to walk it off. Her heart throbbed twice in her rib cage, then sat quietly.

Slowly, she straightened her back, and degree by degree, turned around. "Cole," she said.

"Phoebe," he replied, the last syllable coming up like a question.

"Cole," she said, backing up a step. Her mind was suddenly at her ninth grade biology class. _Aortas,_ she thought.

"Phoebe," he replied, his voice soft.

"Cole," she said, placing her left foot behind her right. _Aortas_, she thought. _The main artery in the body. Carries oxygenated blood from the heart to the other arteries in the body._

"Phoebe," he replied, his tone now a bit concerned.

"Cole," she said.

She fainted.


	9. Until Daybreak

**A/N:** I know I probably should have updated sooner, but you know—the holidays and all that. Here's another chapter; and if you want, there's a new chapter of **LI** (Love's Intervention) up as well. Enjoy!

**Twice Cursed  
****Until Daybreak**

Cole carefully sponged Phoebe's forehead again with a damp washcloth, even though Phoebe wasn't a bit feverish. In fact, she seemed more to be sleeping than anything else. The sponging was more of an action to preoccupy Cole with, since there seemed to be little that he could do that he hadn't already done.

After catching Phoebe before she completely collapsed onto the floor, Cole had shimmered off to his hotel room and had stripped his bed of its pillows and comforters before he went back to the mausoleum, the whole jumble in his arms. He made a makeshift bed for her with all the bedclothes, using the sarcophagus in the middle as a sort of headboard, then shimmered to Phoebe's own room and got her own comforter. Since he didn't dare to venture to any place other than Phoebe's bedroom in the Manor, he shimmered back to the hotel to pick up a few washcloths, a small basin that he filled with tap water, and some bottles of water that the hotel had provided. Then he had shimmered to the mausoleum, where he had remained since.

He knew it probably would be better to put Phoebe in the care of her sisters, or even bring her to his warm hotel suite, but he was still too weak to shimmer an actual person. In fact, the trips that he had taken in rapid succession to ensure Phoebe's comfort were embarrassingly exhausting. He had recuperated in Phoebe's room long enough to shimmer away from the Manor and to a bank, where he had withdrawn a good amount of cash, relying only on the memory of his PIN number to have access to his account. The first thing that he did with the money was to go to a store and buy an outfit more to his liking; he couldn't have stood one more minute in all the plaid he was draped in, having grabbed some from Leo and Piper's vacated bedroom.

Then he had headed off toward a hotel in downtown San Francisco, where he secured a prime suite and promptly ordered room service of all his favorite foods the moment he was in the room, careful to avoid the alcohol. He ate to his stomach's content, shaved and took a shower, then happily passed out on the king-sized four-poster bed.

Still, all this luxury had done nothing more than to sate his tired bones and his stomach. He was in desperate need of some peace. So after he woke up from his sleep, he decided to go to the mausoleum, the only place available for him to find some comfort.

He hadn't thought for the world that the first thing he would see when he arrived there would be Phoebe, panting as if she had run a marathon. He had been in shock for a few seconds, paralyzed as she slowly turned around. Cole had been prepared to have her scream at him, try to maim him, something—he was not prepared for the tired, faraway look in her eyes. That, if anything, had paralyzed him even more, until she had fainted. It was only then he had sprung into action.

Cole checked Phoebe's steady pulse again before looking at her face. It was almost funny how her presence had thrown him into a complete state of blankness. Sure, he had acted as soon as she fainted, but when he looked at her, he almost couldn't breathe. His mind flitted back to those times, so far away, when he had simply watched her sleep for minutes on end, sometimes through the night. On impulse, he reached out to stroke her cheek. To his surprise, she stirred slightly and moved against it. Her eyes half-opened. "Cole?" she whispered.

He quickly withdrew his hand. "Don't be afraid," he said quickly. "It's me."

Her eyes opened a little more, and she made a little murmur. "What time is it?" she asked sleepily.

"Just about daybreak," he answered, allowing himself to gently stroke her hair before pulling away.

She turned her head so that he face was close to the stone ground, her fingers poking out from underneath her comforter to finger the linen beneath her. She frowned. "We're at the mausoleum," she muttered to herself. Then her eyes widened. "The mausoleum," she breathed.

She pushed herself up, her hands twisting the sheets. "Oh my God," she half shrieked, staring at Cole. "Why…how…"

"I don't know," Cole said helplessly. "I just…I woke up in your attic this morning, I don't know how I got there, I don't know any more than you do."

Phoebe continued to stare at him, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. Then, suddenly, her eyes took on a slightly dull quality as she slumped back against the sarcophagus. Cole wondered at her seemingly lack of response.

"Oh, God," Phoebe muttered, clutching her head as a dizzy spell came over her. Cole moved forward and directed her back into the bedclothes so that she was lying down. She hardly resisted. Cole wondered again.

"Where did all this linen come from?" she asked when Cole had effectively tucked her in, her voice sounding drained.

"The stuff on the floor is from the hotel that I've decided to stay in, while I you know, figure out what's going on," he said. "And you probably know that's your own comforter." Cole offered her a bottle of Fuji water. She glanced at him, glanced at the bottle, then reached out to take it.

"Thanks," she said, not questioning. She raised herself at an angle so that she could sip the water, then settled back down again, her eyes already half closed. Cole was beginning to find her lack of even a simple inquisitiveness disturbing.

"Oh, Phoebe," Cole sighed, unable to help himself. "What are you doing here?"

Phoebe opened her eyes completely at his remark, looking stung. For a second, Cole was afraid that he had offended her somehow, and tried to speak to make up for it, but Phoebe beat him to it. "I'm here," she said, her voice tiny yet surprisingly clear, "because I had nowhere else to go."


	10. Going Insane

**Twice Cursed  
****Going Insane**

Cole stared at her, unable to respond to such a remark. "Uh…"

"Yeah," Phoebe said shortly, pulling herself up again, her sleepiness gone. "What are you doing here, Cole?" she asked, changing the subject.

"I told you," he said patiently, "I don't know." He really was wondering what was going on with Phoebe. She had her sisters, and apparently she had a husband. So what was she doing in a cold cemetery at night?

"You know," she said sardonically, "there's no one who cheats death like you."

Cole continued to gape at his ex-wife, her actions confusing him beyond words. It was almost like—she trusted him. He knew it was much too much to hope for, yet he could not help it as a small bubble of optimism rose up in his chest. "Well," he said in answer to her comment, "there's nothing like coming back from the dead and seeing you."

Phoebe let out a short bark of laughter and looked away, running her tongue over her teeth. "I feel absolutely disgusting," she said under her breath, not acknowledging Cole's remark.

Cole, picking up on her remark, nearly told her that she always looked beautiful but decided not to push his luck, even if he believed it true. "Well, if you want, you can come to my hotel room," Cole offered her a bit tremulously. He held up his hands, anticipating her reaction before she reacted herself. "For what it's worth I swear that I won't do anything funny. I'm just offering you my bathroom."

Phoebe stared at him for so long after his proposal that Cole began to feel weaker than he already was. Finally, she blinked, almost seeming to snap out of a trace, and nodded. "Okay," she said. Nothing more, nothing less. No ultimatums, no warnings. Just acceptance. "How are we getting there?"

"Will, uh, shimmering be fine by you?" Cole stammered. "If I am to shimmer you, though, I can only shimmer you first. By yourself, that is, not with all those comforters and bedquilts and pillows and whatnot. Before I might've not even been able to that, but I've rested up a bit, so I can probably do it now. Maybe I can shimmer a bottle of water along with you too, but there's plenty of water in my hotel room, it's really big, comfortable you know, I used money from my bank account to get it," he continued to babble. Phoebe shook her head.

"You can shimmer either me or the bedding first, whatever you want," she said. She cracked a half-smile. "I don't have a preference or anything."

Cole continued to stare at her even as he held out his hand. She was so calm—too calm, too serene. Not that he was complaining much, since he would rather not be punched in the jaw, but it seemed strange—too strange.

Phoebe stretched out her arm to lightly rest her hand in the palm of his. He curled his fingers around her unresisting ones, then, without taking his eyes off of her, he shimmered.

A few seconds later, they were standing in the bedroom of the suite. Phoebe brought her eye contact with her ex-husband and turned her gaze toward the completely stripped king-sized bed. She cleared her throat slightly. "Maybe you should bring back the sheets now. The hotel may find it a bit strange to find a bare mattress."

Cole nodded, slowly. "You make yourself comfortable. The bathroom's yours for the using. If you need anything, just call room service." Without another word, he shimmered away.

Phoebe slowly let her breath out, not even realizing she had been holding it in. She looked around the luxurious suite and around the corners at the interconnected living room and kitchenette. Some things never changed, did they? She found the deluxe bathroom, entered and closed the door behind her.

Not like something as insignificant as a door could stop Cole from shimmering in. Phoebe heaved a sigh and stared at her reflection, her palms digging into the edge of the sink counter. _I certainly look a mess_, she thought as she ran a hand through her knotted hair. Phoebe wondered why she wasn't acting with more extremity. She wondered why she felt so unfazed, why she acted with such tranquility when she saw her evil ex-husband returned from the mores of hell for the second time. _That's me_, a slightly sarcastic voice sounded in her head. _The most jaded witch of all time._

At that thought, Phoebe suddenly turned away from the mirror, beginning to feel afraid of her own thoughts. Under these circumstances, she shouldn't be making sarcastic comments to herself! Hell, she shouldn't be in Cole Turner's hotel room at all! What was she doing? What was she _thinking?_ She should be with her sisters discussing the situation, Leo should be _there _telling the Elders—yet something was holding her back.

She didn't know what; was it her empathy, the magical power that she still hadn't received at the time of Cole's second demise? Even without seriously trying, Phoebe knew Cole meant every single word that he had told her, knew that he was telling the truth when he said that he didn't know why he was alive again, knew that he had nothing but good intentions when he offered her his bathroom. She could delve much deeper if she wanted to, to confirm her findings, but she knew that no matter how calm she was now, she was not ready for it. Not ready for whatever his heart felt.

It was so strange. On that…makeshift bed that Cole had set up for her, when she was still caught in that delicate place between sleep and reality, she had felt a strong, distinct presence, and the presence had given her a sense of peace that carried all the way into her awakening. And so when she woke, she didn't find it surprising to see Cole. It wasn't until she remembered all her circumstances that she became taken aback; and with that, she felt deadened, weary, as her memory of her most recent events came flooding back to her. Even so, the memories did nothing to affect her feelings. Her feelings? She didn't even know what she was feeling now, and she was supposed to be the expert.

She leaned forward against toward the mirror and said very seriously to her reflection; "I think I'm going insane." Then she turned away, pulling off her cardigan as she began to prepare for her shower.


	11. Mr Practicality

**A/N:** This one's a bit short, but don't worry -- I have one other finished chapter that is in my computer, which will come up soon, and another chapter that I'm working on as well. Enjoy

**Twice Cursed  
****Mr. Practicality **

Phoebe slowly cracked open the bathroom door, peering out at the bedroom before she emerged, snugly wrapped in a fluffy white terry bathrobe, her hair light and bouncy, a result of the expensive shampoo and conditioner and the ten-setting blowdryer the hotel had provided. She padded to the living room and scanned the kitchenette. "Cole?" she called. No answer. She went back to the bedroom.

As she looked around more carefully, she saw a sight that made her smile. On the bare mattress were two unceremonious piles; one of the hotel's linen, and one of her own comforter. Phoebe walked over to the bed, put her comforter aside, and began making the bed. She tucked in the fitted sheet, then unevenly spread out the flat sheet and the comforter, giving the bed a slept-in appearance. She was in the midst of fluffing out the pillows when she felt a shimmer.

She turned around to see Cole carrying two shopping bags. They stared at each other, Phoebe's eyebrows raised, before Cole suddenly cleared his throat. "I, uh, bought you some new clothes. You know, because after that shower of yours you might want to have something clean to put on."

Phoebe shook her head. "Cole, you really didn't—"

"But I insist. You'd feel uncomfortable in your dirty clothes, and it's not like you can go traipsing around in the bathrobe either. I mean, after all, it is the hotel's."

Phoebe smiled a little half-smile. It was true, of course. "Still, though, all you really had to do was shimmer me to my bedroom and then shimmer me back. I know you, Cole—you probably spent way too much. I mean, just look at this suite." She paused as Cole gave her one of his signature looks. "But I guess it wouldn't hurt to see what you got me." Goddamnit, she could never resist it when he got that look on his face.

Cole immediately brightened and handed her the bags, then sat down on the purposely half-made bed as Phoebe nervously peered into the particularly large bag. She involuntarily gasped as she drew out a lace-trimmed camisole, a cashmere sweater, and a corduroy knee-length skirt. She recognized every brand and couldn't quite believe that Cole, even with all his money, had bought her such lavishness. "Cole…"

"You don't like it?" he asked anxiously, wringing his hands. "I mean, I know I'm not the greatest at style, even though I did have some help from the store employee."

"Cole, it's perfect. Even the sizes are perfect." She didn't even have to check the labels to know. "But, it's so…expensive. I can't let you give this to me. It's too much."

"No, it's not," he said firmly. "I don't care about the money, it's never been an issue for me and it's not going to be an issue now. Consider it a gift you've already repaid."

"How?" Phoebe asked softly.

Cole cast his eyes downward. "For listening to me when you saw me. For treating me just like another person. For letting me offer you my bathroom."

Phoebe sat on the edge of the bed as well. "Cole…"

He reached out and clasped both of her hands in his. "Please," he nearly pleaded. "Just accept it. It…it would mean the world to me."

Phoebe looked down at her hands, ensnared in his, then shyly looked back up at his eyes. "OK," she said finally. She slowly stood, her hands slipping almost reluctantly out of his grasp. "I think I'm going to go put these on…"

"Wait," he said. She turned back. "You forgot the other one."

Phoebe glanced at the bag, biting her lower lip as she recognized the pink and white striped design. She reached in to pull out a basic black bra and a three-pack of low-rise bikini briefs. She had to laugh. "Mr. Practicality," she said, almost teasing as she grabbed both bags and headed for the bathroom.


	12. Not Looking

**Twice Cursed  
**_**Not Looking**_

Phoebe stood staring down at her shoes in the hotel suite. She was only a few yards away opposite from Cole, yet the distance felt like an endless chasm to her. If she was an observer to her current situation, she probably would have laughed—the awkwardness had a certain ludicrous edge to it. She had come out of the bathroom after putting on the clothes; Cole told her she looked especially beautiful in them, and then they had lapsed into clumsy silence, not quite looking into each others' eyes. They were acting like preteens on their very first date.

They probably could have stayed in their positions for hours on end if Phoebe's cell phone had not sounded, causing both of them to start. Phoebe, somewhat stiffly, ran over to her purse and fished it out, afraid of the name that would appear on her Caller ID. She heaved a breath when she realized it was neither her husband nor her sisters, but sucked it back in when she saw who it was. "Hello?" she answered the phone.

"Phoebe," came the brisk reply from the other end, "Where are you? I need the final copy for your column, and I also have your corrected papers for next week's paper special. Also—"

"Hey, Elise?" Phoebe cut her off. "I can't come in today."

"What do you mean, you can't come in?" Elise snapped. "Didn't you hear me? I need the final—"

"Elise. I can't come in. I have a few – personal issues to deal with, OK?"

"I can't tolerate this, Phoebe," Elise warned. "I know you left office early yesterday. You can't slack off."

"OK, Elise, you know what? I've been in the office from dawn to way past dusk for the past two months. I think I deserve some slack." She paused. "And the final copy is printed. On my desk. Outbox."

Elise thought about it for a second. "Fine." She hung up receiver none too gently, leaving Phoebe to stare at her phone as the dial tone droned. She slowly closed the cell phone lid, then took a deep breath and spun around. "Hey," she said to Cole. "Does this hotel have a place where we can have breakfast?"

Fifteen minutes later, they were seated in a lavish restaurant on the ground floor of the hotel. They ordered off of the menu, then became awkward with each other once more. Phoebe arranged the silverware so that they were completely parallel to each other; Cole drummed his fingers on the table and fidgeted in his seat. "So," he said finally, "how are your sisters?"

"They're doing great," she said, her fingers letting go of the napkin that she was creasing. "You know, Piper had a boy instead of a girl like we all expected? His name is Wyatt. They also had another son—Chris."

"Really?" Cole answered, thinking back to that family portrait in Phoebe's room. "Congratulations to the both of them."

"Yeah," Phoebe responded, picking up the napkin again. "And Paige—she's a teacher now, at Magic School too. Imagine that, huh?"

"Impressive," Cole commented, nodding to the waiter as he brought a pot of coffee and filled their mugs. "And you," he said haltingly. "How are you? What's new?" He swallowed. "Anyone in your life?"

Her hands froze, looking every bit like a deer caught in headlights. "I'm married," she said softly. "Technically speaking, I suppose." She sighed, lightly touched her ring finger, and slowly began to play with the napkin again. "Don't know how long _that_ is going to last."

"What do you mean?" Cole said cautiously.

"What I mean is that it should've never happened in the first place," she said, staring at the empty plate before her. "And after last night…" she shook her head. "We got into the biggest fight. I basically told him that our marriage was a truckload of crap." Her words were harsh, her gaze toward the plate intense.

"That's why you were at the mausoleum," Cole realized. "But what about—"

"The Manor?" Phoebe said bitterly, lifting her head to look at him. "Why? To burden them when I'm supposed to be living somewhere else? My room was supposed to be converted into a room for Chris, but it can't be—because I keep coming back. Should I go to the Manor to see Piper and Paige exchange looks of pity with each other? To see them mouth 'I knew it' to each other when they don't think I'm looking? To see Piper and Leo in their perfect glory?" She stopped, her breath slightly ragged, her eyes bright with moisture, suddenly embarrassed for revealing so much, so soon. She quickly dropped the napkin onto the plate and hurriedly stood. "I—I've got to go to the restroom." She pushed back her chair and was about to leave when Cole stopped her.

"Phoebe," he said softly. "It's OK."

"Is it?" Phoebe answered, her voice quavering. "I mean, how would you know, Cole? You just got resurrected, brought back to life."

"I know," he answered, his voice gentle.

Phoebe looked at him warily, then slowly sat down as their food arrived. They ate in silence, Cole sneaking glances as much as he could at Phoebe while Phoebe kept her eyes on her plate. After they had eaten their full, Phoebe put down her utensils and looked up at Cole. "So," she said, heaving a sigh as she said the word, "what are we going to do next?"

Cole blinked. "We?"

"Yes, _we_," Phoebe answered. "I mean, unless you don't want to?"

"No, no," Cole assured her quickly, "that's not what I meant at all. I had hoped, but…I didn't know if you wanted to." He cleared his throat and hastily added; "so what are we going to do again?"

"That's what I was asking you," Phoebe answered, a slight smile on her face. "Though I wouldn't mind just doing nothing. Life's been pretty hectic lately."

"Sure," Cole replied as they called for and received the check. "I'm paying, by the way," he announced as he drew out his wallet and ignored the look that he received from Phoebe. "Chivalry should not be dead. The men from my day pick up the tab." He stuck the cash in the little folder that was provided and sprinkled some bills on the table as tip. "Do you want to go now?" Phoebe nodded and waited before he was a little away from the table before she opened the folder to glance at the receipt. She clicked her tongue as she memorized the figure and quickly set it back on the table to follow him. She'll pay him back—just when he wasn't looking.


	13. Still Not Looking

**Twice Cursed  
****Still Not Looking**

"Are you sure?" Cole asked Phoebe dubiously, one of his eyebrows raised.

"Yes, I'm sure," Phoebe said firmly. She pressed the pile that she was holding in her arms into his, then pointed him toward a small row of doors. "Now in you go." Cole, with a slight push from Phoebe, reluctantly headed for them. "And don't forget to come out so I can see!" Phoebe called after him.

Two minutes later, Cole emerged self-consciously from one of the doors. His gaze went to Phoebe, who was lounging on a cushioned bench a few feet away. Phoebe smiled broadly at him. "See, I told you it'll look good on you."

Cole gazed back at the mirror of the dressing room through the open door. "I look like a pumpkin," he complained. His hand toyed with the collar of the shirt. "It's so…_orange_."

Phoebe rolled her eyes and rose from her seat. She walked to him and walked into the rather spacious dressing room. She grabbed a black suit jacket from off the hanger and handed it to him. "There," she said after he put it on. "It's not too _orange_ now." She sat down on the chair provided in the dressing room.

Cole was not exactly sure how they had got into his predicament. They had started out simply enough, with just the two of them strolling around town. He had not even realized that they had entered a shopping district until Phoebe pulled him into a store. "Hey," he had said a bit grudgingly, "weren't the clothes I got you enough?"

"I really appreciate those clothes, Cole. I really do—you know that. But the answer is no, no amount of clothes is ever enough," was Phoebe's honest reply. Cole had not-too-enthusiastically tagged along as she browsed through the store, though he had perked up slightly when she modeled outfits for him. She bought a few articles of clothing (she had predicted Cole's reaction and had paid faster than Cole could take out his wallet) and had exited the store, looking as though she wanted to go to other shops. Cole had braced himself for another round when Phoebe took him into another store when he realized it was a clothing store for men.

"Uh, Phoebe?" Cole had asked as she started to leaf through shirts and slacks.

"Cole, I've done my shopping, now its time for you," Phoebe had replied distractedly as she selected a pair of slacks. "From what I know, the only clothes that you have are the ones on your back, and that is simply not acceptable."

"Well, no, that's not entirely true, I kinda have one of L—" Cole stopped as he saw Phoebe take a pink collared shirt off of a shelf. "Pink?" He gawked as she nodded. "Phoebe," he said very seriously, "men do not wear pink. _I_ do not wear pink."

"Cole, twenty first century, remember?" Phoebe said. "It's perfectly _manly_"—she mocked the word—"to wear pink. I think Leo has a pink shirt." She had pouted as Cole snorted, had put the shirt back on the shelf, then selected an orange one, giving Cole a look that dared him to object as she moved on to another section of the store.

Phoebe shifted slightly in her chair as Cole took of the jacket and started unbuttoning the orange shirt, heat rising slightly to her cheeks as the shirt slipped off of his shoulders, revealing his as-toned-as-ever chest and stomach. As he reached over to get the light blue shirt from the opposite wall, Phoebe took the opportunity to slip exactly half of her share of the breakfast into his wallet, which was in his discarded pants as he was trying on a pair of slacks. When she was done, she barely suppressed a sigh of relief when she saw that Cole had already buttoned up his shirt half way. She didn't know what she'd do if he was to catch her sighing over his body.

It was strange. Neither of them had mentioned their bumpy past, making references only to good memories and each other's characteristics. Yet, the weight of their history was not there, did not damper them. It sounded impossible, but there they were, in the dressing room of a high-end store for men's clothing. Shit, Phoebe thought suddenly. He's taking off his pants now _with_ his shirt.

And she couldn't help but stare. Stare at those strong arms that she loved to have hold her tight, that broad chest she loved to snuggle up against, those legs that used to wrap around her waist when—

"Phoebe?"

She startled out of her trance to look up at Cole's face. "Can you hand me my pants?" he asked with a straight face. Phoebe desperately tried to push down a blush as she knew he was trying hard not to smile in satisfaction, and did not quite look at him when she handed him his slacks. Then she remembered that she hadgiven him a lot more than two shirts and a pair of pants to try on.

"Wait, what about the rest of the clothes?" Phoebe asked, snapping back into her shopping state of mind. Cole made a face.

"Phoebe, there's only so much of this 'trying on' that I can take. And if the measurement of the pants fit, so will the rest. If two of the shirts fit, and so will the rest. Hell, one shirt fitting is good enough." He reached for his own shirt.

"So then why did you try on two?" Phoebe challenged.

Cole smiled widely. "To indulge you, of course."

Phoebe sputtered. "_Cole!_" she complained as he laughed and finished dressing. "Incorrigible," she muttered under her breath, though loud enough for Cole to hear. He grinned as he opened the dressing room door so they could exit and pay. Cole put down a considerable amount of money for the clothes, starting and giving Phoebe a look when he saw the extra cash. She gave him her most innocent smile as they left the store, now even more laden with shopping bags.

"Now, where to next?" Phoebe asked as she took in a breath of fresh air. "This does have a very Ferris Bueller feel to it, doesn't it?"

"Ferris Bueller?" Cole said blankly. "Is that an amusement park ride or something?"

"_Ferris Bueller's Day Off_?" Phoebe said incredulously. "It's only like the only teen movie of the eighties that wasn't by the Brat Pack. You know, Molly Ringwald? _Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club…_" she trailed off as she studied Cole's clueless expression. "I've got it. I know where we're going." She snapped her fingers, checked the block corner for the street signs, then picked her way.

"Where are we going?" Cole asked her after they had walked for fifteen minutes. "You know I can always shimmer us…"

"No, it's around here somewhere," Phoebe said distractedly as she peered down two potential paths. "I know it. Besides, exercise is good for you." She missed Cole give her back a doubtful look as she headed down a street. "We're here," she announced triumphantly as she paused in the middle of the block.

Cole looked up at the building in front of him. "A wax museum?" he asked Phoebe disbelievingly.

"I think it's perfect," Phoebe replied stubbornly. "Your lack of recent culture is appalling and we've never fixed it. A wax museum would work beautifully."

They paid a small fee and went in, Phoebe pointing to the various still figures and lecturing to Cole in a hushed voice about their varying accomplishments. Two hours later they emerged from the building, Phoebe looking very satisfied and Cole's mind reeling with random tidbits of information. Phoebe glanced at Cole's expression and grinned. "I should type up a test for you," she giggled. "I can just see the questions. 'Who is Oprah?'"

"An extremely successful and influential daytime talk-show host who also has a magazine," Cole answered seriously, which only set off Phoebe even more. He waited calmly until Phoebe's peals of laughter somewhat subsided before speaking. "Now that you've had your fun, it's time for a few ideas of my own."

"Aw, you didn't think that was fun?" Phoebe asked, a little disappointed.

"No actually, I loved it," Cole assured her. He had loved the whole morning, but he loved what she did the most; the way she laughed, the way she spent a good ten minutes on whether to get a shirt in a small or a medium, the way she grabbed his hand to drag him from one wax figure to another. "But—I'm starving. We need lunch." He paused and Phoebe looked at him expectantly. "And I think I know just the place." He held out his hand for Phoebe to take, but pulled away at the last second. "I'm paying this time. For _all_ of it."

Phoebe laughed again. "If you insist," she said, not intending to let him pay for all of it in the least. She reached for his hand, and with her fingers gently curled around his, they vanished from sight.


	14. Empathic Duty

**Twice Cursed  
Empathic Duty**

**A/N (IMPORTANT):** In light of the events that are taking place in Season Seven, I have decided to revamp the background information of this story. Instead of the whole AU backdrop that I put up in the beginning, **Twice Cursed now simply takes place approximately ten months after the Season Seven episode _Charmageddon_**. Other than that, however, **nothing has been changed.** I know that in the first twelve chapters, we see Leo and Piper happily together and Leo as their Whitelighter, but keep in mind that ten months is a good stretch of time. These details will be explained gradually, basically in these immediate chapters.

If you have any questions, you can first check the first chapter of this story, where I reiterate in slightly different words this information, or you can contact me for any reason at all at my email address, which can be accessed through my FF profile.

* * *

"I can't believe that you still remember an obscure restaurant that you've been to once in your life," Phoebe remarked as she and Cole strolled down a street in Sacramento, their stomachs full from a satisfying lunch. 

"Obscure?" Cole said in faked outrage. "That restaurant—" he indicated behind him "—is, in my opinion, the best thing to come out of this city."

"How did you even come across this place, anyways?" Phoebe asked him as they randomly crossed an intersection.

"It was after the Siren incident," Cole said lightly, "and I happened to hit upon the restaurant after spending two days in the Andes." He paused as Phoebe digested the information. "The owner, Ralph, knows quite a lot about you."

"Oh." Phoebe bit the inside of her mouth and looked straight ahead. "Is that why he was looking at me like that? Why would he remember, anyways? Sacramento is a big city and it has been a while since the—Siren incident."

Cole cleared his throat. "He probably remembers me because I uh, kind of trashed the restaurant a little bit the first time I was there."

Phoebe stared at him. "I had a few drinks," Cole hurriedly began to explain, "got a little mad. I didn't do anything irreparable—just smashed a couple of plates and broke two glasses."

"And he still lets you in to his restaurant?" Phoebe asked, trying to keep her voice neutral and trying not to think of the few months prior to Cole's second death.

"Well, I paid up front after I calmed down a bit, and the reason I calmed down was because—well, because he knew what I was going through," he said. "At least some of it," he hurriedly clarified again. "The whole losing-the-love-of-your-life thing…" he trailed off as Phoebe tensed up slightly next to him and looked away.

Cole tried to turn the topic away from their tumultuous past when Phoebe tensed up even more. Cole looked questioningly at her when Phoebe stopped and put a hand on his arm. She indicated down the block with her other hand. "Someone's in trouble," she said tersely. Without another word, she set off into a jog, heels clacking as Cole, a bit stunned, started to follow her, confused as to what Phoebe seemed to sense.

She veered off into a narrow alleyway and stopped short when she saw a warlock holding an athame to the neck of a terrified black woman. The warlock looked up at Phoebe.

"Witch," he sneered, then in one motion threw the woman away from him and waved both his hands at Phoebe, sending a shower of thorns directly at her. Cole immediately saw what had happened and threw an energy ball at the warlock even as the woman's screams echoed in his ears. Yet, from the corner of his eye, he saw the thorns moving away from Phoebe and directly toward the warlock. He snapped his head toward Phoebe's direction, and instead of seeing her levitated in the air, he saw her with her arms held out, as though she was pushing something away from her. The warlock's own thorns and Cole's energy ball reach him at the same time and the warlock exploded with a strangled cry.

Without so much as a blink, Phoebe hurried to the woman who seemed to be in her early twenties. "Are you OK?" Phoebe asked anxiously as the woman put a hand to her heart and drew in deep breaths. Cole, shocked, stood in the background, his mind not wrapping around the events that had just taken place.

"You're a witch?" the woman finally managed out as her breathe became more even. "I'm one too," she continued before Phoebe could respond. "My mom and aunts are too. I know all about warlocks, but it's the first time—" she drew in another deep breath. "Where did you come from?" she asked. "You came out of nowhere."

Phoebe smiled a little bit as she bent down and retrieved the woman's bag, which was tossed in a small stagnant pool of water. "It's alright now," she said as she reached for some tissues in her own bag to help wipe the water off. "The warlock's vanquished. Still, though," she added as she locked eyes with Cole, "Do you have a coven? Maybe we should bring you there and see if there's a bigger picture that's going on here." Just then, Phoebe noticed the slashes on the woman's arms and shirt, and the bruises forming from where the warlock had gripped her neck. "But first of all, you have to call for your Whitelighter. You're hurt."

The woman nodded, still seeming a bit faint. "Kyle!" she called out.

Phoebe stared at the woman. "Kyle?" she asked, even as a shower of blue-and-white lights appeared before them and assembled into the familiar shape of Agent Brody.

"Andrea?" Kyle asked worriedly as soon as he materialized, taking a step toward the woman without noticing Phoebe. "Are you OK?" He held out his hands and healed her.

The woman nodded again, looking at Phoebe. Kyle followed Andrea's line of sight and gaped as he saw the Charmed One. "Phoebe?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"She's with me," Cole said suddenly, his feelings of confusion and his feelings of jealousy as he saw the look of recognition pass between the two making him act. Phoebe threw him an alarmed look as Kyle squinted suspiciously at Cole.

"Who's that guy?" Kyle asked as he peered at Cole, his eyes sharply boring into the former demon. There was something not quite right about the guy, it seemed to him… "Last time I checked, you still lived in San Francisco with Piper and Paige."

Phoebe caught the wistful way Kyle said Paige's name. "And so I am," Phoebe answered. "I was just—here. Around. With him." She indicated toward Cole. "You know. Just around." She smiled so that her wisdom teeth showed.

Kyle gave her another piercing look, one that he had used during his days as a government agent. "Aren't you with that guy—what was his name—Matt?"

Phoebe let out a laugh of relief. "Oh, him? Oh, no—we broke up a long, long time ago. _Long_ time ago. Besides, Cole and I are just friends." As Phoebe said his name, she cursed silently as she realized what she had just said. She barely suppressed a nervous chuckle as she caught Cole's expression.

"Cole…" Kyle echoed, his brow furrowed as he tried to remember where he had heard that name before. He was pretty sure Paige had mentioned his name before…

"Well," Phoebe said brightly, "Andrea, I know you're in good hands now, since I know how able Agent Brody, or Kyle here, is. But we really have to get going. I'll send my regards to my sisters," she continued, looking at Kyle. "Bye!"

She quickly walked away from the pair, grabbed Cole's arm, and led them both out of the alleyway. Once they were out of earshot, Phoebe shoved Cole into another abandoned alleyway. "Shimmer us back to the hotel, now," she said in a low voice, leaving no room for argument. Cole in turn gave her a dark look, roughly pulled Phoebe to him, and brought them back to California.

As they arrived in the recently freshened bedroom of Cole's suite, Phoebe broke away from him and crossed her arms in front of chest. "Nice going there, Cole," she said sarcastically.

"What did I do?" Cole snapped back. "That Kyle or whoever the hell he was still would've found you being in Sacramento suspicious."

Phoebe tightened her arms in front of her and glared at Cole. "For God's sakes, Cole, Kyle was _Paige's_ boyfriend."

"Did I say anything to imply otherwise?" Cole retorted.

Phoebe let out a snort of laughter. "You're kidding, right? You're about as obvious as anyone could be right about now. Jealousy is practically radiating off of you like heat waves. And would you stop feeling so goddamned offended that I called you a friend? I have a husband, and guess what? He's not you!"

"Oh right," Cole said sarcastically, "your _husband_. The other half in your marriage that you described, in your own words, as a 'truckload of crap'. No, thanks, I'd rather not be him. At least with us—" he stopped.

"At least with us what? What?" Phoebe demanded, even as her voice quivered and her eyes filled up with tears. She choked back a sob as she sat down heavily onto the bed, clutching her head. "No…" she muttered to herself. "Stop it…"

Cole looked at her warily. "Phoebe?" Totally unsure of what was going on, he sat down next to her and contemplated on whether he should try to comfort her.

"You should know exactly what's going," Phoebe bit out. "You're the one who sent Vinceres after us, remember?"

Cole stared at Phoebe from his place on the bed. Vinceres…he was the demon, the demon that was cursed with the ability to feel. Suddenly, the events of the day seemed to make a lot more sense; the way Phoebe sensed the danger the witch Andrea was in, the way she deflected the thorns of the warlock, even the way she seemed to know exactly what he was feeling.

"Yeah, you've got it," Phoebe said flatly as Cole blinked. "I'm an empath." She sucked in her breath as she felt another wave of emotion come over her. She could barely control it; and she hadn't felt this way until she first received her newest power, and a short time when she regained her powers again from the Elders. What was happening to her? She started again when she recognized the foremost emotion she was reading off of Cole. It was disappointment. Phoebe was about to ask him about it when the question died on her lips. She knew the answer to that one. He was dismayed, saddened because he thought that their sudden intimacy was brought by her now-natural inclination toward reading and responding to emotions.

"Cole," Phoebe said softly. He looked back at her. "I'm sorry for snapping at you before; it's just that I was worried, and I was feeding off of your anxiety too, so…" she trailed off as she studied him. "It's strange. I thought I've gotten past the point where other people's emotions didn't directly affect my own actions without my own control over them. I mean, other than that time when I gained back my powers from the Elders—"

"Gained back?" Cole cut in. "What do you mean by that?"

Phoebe looked away uncomfortably. "About two years ago, I had been using my powers irresponsibly and the Elders took them away as my punishment, and as a way for me to earn them back. I did about seven months ago." Phoebe smiled a bit from the shock she felt from him. "A lot of things can happen in three years, Cole."

"Tell me about it," Cole said to himself.

Phoebe gave him a lopsided smile. "Maybe I will," she replied.


	15. Story

**A/N: **God, I hope you guys still remember who I am. After a gigantic spell of a writer's block, I'm back for this unfortunately short chapter. The good news is that I have roughly mapped out the next two or three chapters in this story. The bad news is that I have no idea when Love's Intervention will be updated—I know what's supposed to happen in the next chapter, but since it's supposed to be both long and action-packed, it may take a long while.

In between the last time I updated my two main stories, however, I have put up a one-shot—Research—so if you haven't read it yet, I sincerely hope you do so.

Without further ado.

**Twice Cursed  
****Story**

Phoebe gave a short laugh as she inched back, sitting more fully on the bed. "God—so many things have happened—I'm not even sure where to start," she said nervously.

"Well, that should be expected, seeing that you're a Charmed One and all," Cole replied, wanting to help Phoebe alleviate some of her edginess, which he guessed was partly due to her empathy. _A whole new power_, Cole mused, wondering what else Phoebe had in store for him. He had a feeling the information he was told so far was just the tip of the iceberg.

"Yeah," Phoebe said a bit shortly, puzzling Cole. Did he say something wrong? He had no time to wonder as she started talking again.

"Um…let's see…a little while after your—uh, alternate universe—Piper gave birth, to Wyatt. We were so surprised, you can't even imagine. I mean, not even Dad's evil wife and her boss knew that when they attempted to steal him away, and they were armed with a prophecy and all." Phoebe paused and laughed a genuine laugh at the look on Cole's face. "You see, it's like this…"

Cole watched Phoebe intently as she talked of her life, noticing the hand gestures that came with her words, the way her body was curled up on the fresh pillows, her smiles and her frowns. So caught up in studying her, he heard less and less of what she was saying. It wasn't until she began to wave her hand energetically in front of his face that he jerked to a start to give her a sheepish smile.

"Let me guess," Phoebe said, her tone stern, but traces of a smile lingering on her lips. "You haven't heard a word I've said?"

"That's not true!" Cole protested. "You were just talking about how your grandmother didn't want to give your nephew a Wiccaning!"

Phoebe crossed her arms and glared at him. "That was at least ten minutes ago! I was talking about Chris!"

Cole narrowed his eyes. "Chris as in Piper's second son," Phoebe clarified, exasperated. "God, the first time I find an audience and said audience isn't even paying attention." She huffed. "Where was I?"

As Phoebe continued to talk, Cole tried harder to listen to her but was thrown when he took in the meaning of her words. Did she really trust him with her past, with knowledge, with—her? He swallowed as Phoebe sent another glare his way as if to check to see if he was paying attention. He held up his hands in a pleading gesture and began listening again.

"So we created a perfect man for Piper, you know, one of those 24-hours-a-pop kind of things, and he was really perfect too—not the kind of man I thought Piper would come up with. I was thinking more of the blonde and Leo-like type but apparently not. Though I remember feeling really bad for Leo when he found out about him, he was just about as crestfallen as the time when he saw Piper getting ready for her date with Greg."

"Greg? I thought that the guy that Piper went out with before she married Leo was Dan," Cole said, a bit confused. "And why," he continued before he could stop himself, "would Piper have her sisters create a perfect man for her at all? Wasn't Leo enough?"

Phoebe sent a quelling glare in his direction. "Fine, if you don't want to listen to me, then tell some stories of your own," she snapped. Suddenly, however, her features softened.

"I think I'm about the only Charmed One who hasn't had the pleasure of—dying," she commented. "Tell me—how is it like?" Her tone was conversational, but Cole got the feeling that her question was more serious than she let on. For that reason, he swallowed the questions that formed at the back of his throat at her comment.

"The death I experienced was definitely not the type that you would, Phoebe," Cole answered, a cloud passing over his eyes as he spoke. "I don't know exactly how it is up there, but it sure isn't puffy clouds and white robes down there."

Phoebe blinked. "You mean…"

"Hell," Cole confirmed. "Not a fun place."

Phoebe blinked again, but Cole hardly noticed. In the back of his mind, he realized that this was how Phoebe felt when she related her tale, but the small thought was lost as he remembered the abyss that he had returned from practically a day ago. "You don't really remember specific instances. Well, I mean, there weren't any real distinct instances to really remember. There was the physical pain. That was to be expected—that's the most obvious, isn't it?

"But then—just when you'd least expect it, too—you'll get hit with all these memories. I don't know whether it was because of me or if it was because of Hell, but they'd come. The bad memories were terrible enough; the good ones were worse, because you know that sooner or later you'll be dragged back into the reality of endless torture. It's that feeling of knowing—_knowing _that you've screwed up and that there isn't a damn thing you could do about it. Knowing that the pain that you're feeling inflicted by the flames is nothing compared to the damage you've done to yourself…"

Suddenly, he realized that Phoebe had moved much closer to his place on the bed, and that she had taken his face between her soft hands. "Oh, Cole," she whispered.

He slowly turned his focus to her. And as he looked into her eyes, he saw something he thought he would never see from her again—understanding.

Her lips were gentle against his. He wasn't sure if it was he who leaned in or her—maybe it was both. But the next thing he knew, he was running his hands through her hair and she was sighing into the kiss before they leaned back on the bed.


	16. Telling

**A/N:** This chapter has a whole lot of information crammed in, with an ending that leaves the desire of wanting more. No worries -- it will come -- eventually. Please bekind andreview afterwards.

**Twice Cursed  
****Chapter 15: Telling**

Cole looked at the figure snuggled under his arm with utter happiness, exhilaration, and more than a little surprise. His mind reeled from Phoebe's initiative, from her kiss—and from everything else that happened afterwards. In the very recesses of his mind, the tiny part that was not involved in what they were—doing at the time—he was sure that he would regret his actions afterward. Most likely Phoebe would push him away immediately after the deed was over and run away—or at least go over to the far end of the bed. Inside, she had uttered small noises of contentment and snuggled up to him before drifting off in the glow of aftersex.

Even now Cole was scared—scared that she would wake up and realize her mistake. That she would utter the name of her husband in her sleep. That what they had shared was just an itch she needed to scratch, once and for all—that it was just a passing thing, that it meant nothing to her, that—

Phoebe stirred and moved against him. Cole froze and stared down at her, his hand tangled in her hair. She smiled a lazy smile as her eyes fluttered open. "So...how're you feeling about last night?" she said teasingly. Cole smiled back at her, remembering the same words he had said to her the first time they shared a bed. "Well, actually," Phoebe said, frowning, "it's more like this afternoon. But whatever."

Cole chuckled. "What do you think?"

Phoebe frowned again. "Hey, you said that last time. No fair."

"Fine," Cole said, drawing Phoebe even closer to him. "This _afternoon_—" he paused, grinning, then took a deep breath. "Was magical, was wonderful. Was perfect. In more ways than one. You?"

Phoebe looked up and smiled softly. "Would it surprise you if I said that I agreed?"

"Well…" Cole cleared his throat uncomfortably. "A bit. I mean, the last time I saw you, you were in the process of vanquishing me."

"Not me," Phoebe protested. "An alternate universe version of me that you treated like garbage. Besides," her voice softened, "I never tried to get you killed. That was more—Paige's forte. "

"Yeah, well," Cole mumbled, "it was my dear wife who did me in at the end." Phoebe stiffened. Cole cursed himself for mentioning anything related to matrimony.

Phoebe let out a long-drawn breath. "Oh, shit," she said. "I just cheated on my husband, didn't I?"

Cole let out a sigh similar to hers. "Yes, you did," he replied. It was the truth. He tensed as he waited for Phoebe to break his heart.

"Oh, damn," she said. She averted his gaze and slowly slid out of his reach and rolled away, her back facing him. Cole felt a sharp pain in his chest.

"What?" he asked, knowing the answer but needing to ask anyways. _I'm just a sadistic bastard_, he thought bitterly.

"Nothing," she said shortly. "You just probably think I'm some sort of whoring slut now, that's all."

Cole stared at her back. "No, not at all."

"Yes I am," Phoebe answered bitterly. "I'm a whoring slut who doesn't even regret what she's done."

Cole was about to retort when he caught the last part of her sentence. "You…you don't regret it?"

"Hardly," Phoebe scoffed. "Which probably makes me look even more of a bitch to you."

Cole's heart nearly stopped beating, torn between soaring hope and quiet cautiousness that refused to believe in miracles. "Phoebe," he finally said, "I would never think of you in that way, simply because it isn't true." He felt her listening and plowed on, slowly moving forward as he talked. "You may be mind-_blowingly_ sexy, but you're so sweet and demure."

"But I still cheated," she dissented. "I've never cheated. Ever."

"It isn't cheating if you aren't together," Cole said softly. "And from what I understand, you are only together by name." He hesitated just before he wrapped his arms around her waist. His comment would either make or break their tentative link.

She tensed slightly as she thought over his words before relaxing into his hold. "You're right," she agreed. They silently stayed in their spooned embrace before Phoebe finally spoke. "Is blowingly even a word?"

"Well—no," Cole admitted. "But I'll make it a word just for you."

"Oooh, every girl's dream," Phoebe laughed as she turned around to face him. "You know the way to my heart, Mr. Turner," she whispered as she swung one leg over him, her face close to his. Cole moaned happily and shifted them both so that she was fully straddling him.

"I try my best," he breathed, eyes closed as she leaned forward and caught his lips in a languid kiss. He moaned again along with her as it got deeper and more energetic. He slipped his hands from her hair and onto her smooth, naked back as she nibbled at his neck. It could not get much better than—

"I see you guys are enjoying yourselves," a dry voice remarked a little way from the bed. Cole froze and Phoebe squeaked, collapsing onto him. Cole glared at the intruder with murderous eyes as his hands sought for the covers. As soon as he found them, he dragged them up so that they covered Phoebe up to her neck.

"Kyle…" Phoebe managed out, her face red, "how, uh, how did you get in?"

"How do you think I got in, Phoebe?" Kyle answered. "It's a little handy-dandy trick that Whitelighters, such as myself, enjoy. Orbing, ever heard of it?"

"Kyle," Phoebe hissed, her face flushing even more as she motioned toward Cole, whom she had rolled off of.

"Please," he replied, rolling his eyes. "You have to give me some credit, don't you? I realized he was magical right when I met him. It also kind of explains how you're now in San Francisco when you were in a whole other city hours ago."

"Sacramento isn't that far off," Phoebe tried feebly. When all Kyle did was smile, Phoebe tried another approach as she clung on both her covers and on Cole. "What do you know about him, then?" she asked with bravado. Cole's mind reeled. Was she actually protecting him?

Kyle shrugged. "Not much," he admitted. "Just that there's something quite not right about him."

"Excuse me," Cole said stonily, liking Kyle less and less. "I'm right here."

"Fine then." Kyle turned to Cole and looked him squarely in the eye. "There's something about you that I don't like. I'm not sure what it is, but as Phoebe knows over there, if I get my mind stuck on something, there's very little you can do to hold me back."

"Yeah," Phoebe shot back angrily, her arms clutching tighter onto the man next to her. "I know that all right. And I know that's what got you killed. Besides, he's just a demon."

Cole looked at Phoebe with utter horror. Was she giving him away, still? How could she not—she was handing him over to a Whitelighter on a silver platter!

Cole glanced over at Kyle, hoping that fear wasn't sketched too clearly across his face. Kyle, in response, shot his eyebrows up. "A good demon?"

"Yes," Phoebe replied adamantly. "A good demon."

Kyle gave Cole another steely gaze, then shrugged again. "If you say so, Phoebe. You know best. But if anything happens to you, you know who I'm going to blame. Paige would string me out by my guts."

"Talking about Paige," Phoebe chuckled weakly. "Seen her lately?"

"Not yet," Kyle sighed. "You know with the restrictions and all of that. With the added complications of the attack on Andrea and her clan, there isn't much time for me to go pop a visit."

Phoebe nodded, resting her head on Cole's chest. "Is there anything you want me to do about that? The demon, I mean."

Kyle shook his head. "Don't think so. It's a relatively weak demon, and Andrea's clan is relatively strong. Though they have the firepower, they don't get much practice to use it. All the demons in Northern California somehow end up in San Francisco, imagine that. Anyways, I'm off." With that prompt goodbye, Kyle disappeared in a swirl of lights.

"Phoebe," Cole said slowly, his mind still trying to wrap around the events that had just occurred. "What the hell was that?"

"That was me, saving you," Phoebe said conversationally. Cole continued to stare at her.

"Am I just mistaken, or did you just tell Kyle that I was a _demon_? How is that saving me?"

"Because Kyle is that rare breed of person who believes in the possibility of repentant demons, and an even rarer breed of person who actually trusts my judgment. And don't complain about me labeling you a demon—if we had gone into the whole human-with-demonic-powers thing he would've just gotten curious."

Cole was about to comment but she continued talking. "Besides, Kyle doesn't have anything personally against demons. It's his job to protect his charges from them, but he doesn't go into a murderous rage every time he sees one of them. That he reserves for the Avatars," she grinned.

Cole turned his head sharply to bore his eyes into Phoebe's. Avatars? What did she know about Avatars? Phoebe furrowed her brow slightly. "Cole, are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Cole managed out. "Avatars?"

"Yeah, Avatars." Phoebe's frown deepened.

Cole nodded but his heart pounded as Phoebe slowly narrowed her eyes. He realized that her empathy was kicking into overdrive but the only thing that he could think of was _Does she know I was an Avatar? Does she know I was an Avatar?_ He didn't know why he was panicking, but as Phoebe's face slowly drained of its warmth, he felt rooted to his spot. "Phoebe," he finally said in a low voice.

"You're an Avatar." Cole paled at the sound of her voice—so flat, so endlessly devoid of emotion. Either way, he couldn't deny anything; he knew she had felt it from him.

"I was," he affirmed slowly.

The silence that followed his admission was stifling. Cole stayed frozen, afraid to even twitch, wanting to brush her warm skin with his fingers but afraid of what would happen if he did. They stayed in their motionless state for what felt like hours for Cole, his mind racing with thoughts of what was possibly going on, before Phoebe jerked suddenly and sat up, the sheets wrapped around her.

"I want you to leave," she said in a noncommittal, even voice.

Cole's ears started to ring as he blinked blankly.

"Leave for ten minutes," Phoebe said in the same smoothly mechanical voice, "to let me gather my stuff and I'll go."

"But—" Cole was utterly flustered.

"Go."

His head spun, unable to comprehend all the events and emotions that have been thrown at him in such a short amount of time, his confusion quickly turning to frustrated anger. Without saying a word, he wrenched himself off the bed, grabbed the bathrobe from the open closet, threw it on himself and with his back turned to Phoebe, shimmered away.

_Ten minutes_, he thought to himself angrily. _I'll give that fickle heartbreaker exactly ten minutes before she gets the hell out of my life._

Five minutes later, however, he was severely regretting his decision to leave his hotel room at all. There were only so many places he could've gone in a bathrobe, and after receiving a sly glance from a man in the hotel spa room he was dawdling in, he decided he had enough. Who was Phoebe to order him out of _his_ room, anyways?

Finding a deserted area, he shimmered back to his hotel room, ready to order Phoebe out of his room if she was still there.

He was not prepared to find her crouched on the floor, white sheet still wrapped around her, sobs racking her entire body.


End file.
